Aftershock
by Betty BOKOR
Summary: John Nolan's thoughts right before that last shot.


**Aftershock** by Betty Bokor

John Nolan's thoughts right before that last shot.

Spoilers: All season 1 up to now, including Episode 8.

Disclaimer: The Rookie original characters belong to Alexi Hawley, the ABC Studios, and The Mark Gordon Company. This was written strictly for the purpose of entertainment. No attempt at copyright infringement has been made.

 **Aftershock**

The decision to leave his old life behind had been a deliberate one, not just a whim. John Nolan had long been unhappy by the time his wife had finally asked him for a divorce. It had still been a shock, but the idea of what he would do if single again had already been taking shape in his mind for months, maybe years. The bank robbery had just put him in the right path: being a police officer would give him the opportunity to do something more worthwhile, to achieve more than just bringing a paycheck home.

He had enjoyed his job; the construction company had allowed him to give his wife and son a good life. Hard work, but also rewards. The problem was that he had not been truly happy; mostly content. He had gotten married after five years of dating because it had felt the right thing to do. He had led a comfortable, simple life without too many risks. And, suddenly, it all had seemed boring, tiresome, mind-numbing.

He was ready for a change. With his son in college, everything seemed to be falling into place.

By the time he had joined the Academy, he was certain he was well past the ideal age for being a rookie, but he was determined to succeed. Graduation day had been a triumph, but also a relief.

He was not worried that Sergeant Grey was not fond of him ‒to put it mildly‒ because he wanted to prove him wrong. He had fought to go through his midlife crisis without marrying his secretary or buying himself a sports car, like two of his best friends back home had done. He was going to try harder than all the other rookies and he was going to get Grey to like him, or, at least, respect him. He was patient and he had all the time in the world... or so he thought.

Now, he was on the floor of Ben's house, beaten, in pain, with an enraged ‒and probably high‒ criminal who had not much to lose, pointing a gun to his head. How had it all ended up there? Where had he gone so wrong?

From the beginning he had known the job was a dangerous one, but there were much worse ones; the logging business had a high mortality rate (he had looked into it) and he did not have to run into fires like his friend Joe had, just to name a couple. Besides, he had read most officer go through their careers without ever shooting at anyone, much less killing someone. He had imagined that being part of a force with almost ten thousand officers, the chances of being killed would be low.

However, in a few hours he had been facing a gun to his head _twice_.

The first time he had had a chance. His weapon had been in his hand when Montgomery raised his gun and pointed it at him. He had done what he was trained to do. He had survived. He was _alive_.

That did not mean that he was over it. After watching the video of the _incident_ , as the others kept calling it, he had been shocked by his own demeanor, high in adrenaline, sure, but also so calm, so professional, so detached. He was shocked, hurt, even angry that he had had to kill a man, but he was also numb, if that was possible. He was still walking and talking and making love to Lucy as if nothing had happened. Or because of what had happened.

He had been given another chance. He was not done; he was not gone in his first month at his new job.

He was till there. He was going to make it.

Or was he?

Right now, he was not sure anymore.

He thought of Henry, growing without a father, but that was a risk he had foreseen ‒just in case‒ and prepared for beforehand. He did not need to worry about his son; he was a strong, mature young man; he would be fine without him.

Unexpectedly, lots of memories from the last two days frantically battled for space in his mind as he realized this could be his end. It was not "his life passing before his eyes" like he had heard many people say, but just the time since that shot.

 _I feel terrible..._

 _Is there anything you could have done differently?_

 _I didn't have a choice..._

 _Do you think he was going to kill me?_

 _I'll never do this job again..._

 _Drop the gun!_

 _I need to see it..._

 _What if I can't get past it?_

 _You're the suspect..._

 _Do you know who I am?_

 _He turned and he was dead._

 _Don't move!_

 _Chest, center mass, like we are trained..._

 _Why?_

 _They are alive because you did your job._

 _Why, why, why...?_

 _Suspect is deceased._

 _WHY?_

He did not know why, but for the first time since he had fired his gun, he was certain it was not his fault. He had done what he had been forced to do and now he was not going to surrender without a fight.

There was hope. There were reasons to fight for still.

Lucy was somewhere in the house... Maybe it wasn't a mistake...

He had to hurry.

...And that's when the shot came.

 **...…**

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